


Tech Bros

by silver_drip



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Endearments, Friendship, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), idle threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 02:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_drip/pseuds/silver_drip
Summary: Rocket makes a friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wrecked_anon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrecked_anon/gifts), [Eternal_Love_Song](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Love_Song/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Tech Bros 科技兄弟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162106) by [asadeseki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asadeseki/pseuds/asadeseki)



Rocket wasn’t big on emotions. It wasn’t a _thing_ he had to deal with.

The only real emotions he’d dealt with was anger and amusement. There was no in between and the two emotions switched lightning fast.

Now his anger was simmering in the background, overcome with confusion and loneliness.

It had been a stupid argument and Rocket didn’t even know how it started. He just remembered feeling hurt on the inside and the need to get away.

No one ever accused Rocket of being mature.

Now he was on Terra and didn’t know what to do with himself.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d chosen Quill’s home planet. Maybe because the way Quill described it had caught Rocket’s interest. Or maybe he was just wanted to be somewhere new.

Rocket sighed.

He hadn’t been this alone since he escaped Halfworld and the Loonies.

He picked at his teeth and snarled at another terran that screeched at him and ran away.

Terrans were so weird.

Something salty caught his nose.

He was kind of hungry.

A terran wearing a stupid hat and manning a metal cart.

Stealing didn’t sound fun right now so he decided to go the ‘legal’ route.

“How many credits for three of those things?” Rocket asked while pointing at the sandwich thing a different terran was eating.

The vendor turned around and his face lost all its color and he backed away.

Rocket rolled his eyes.

If he wouldn’t serve Rocket, then he’d serve himself.

He used his jet boots to fly over and land on the cart. Rocket threw the hatch open and dipped his hand into the murky water, pulling out a meat stick.

Rocket bit into one and instantly loved the overwhelming saltiness. He squirted a thick, red drink into his mouth.

Terrans were starting to shout, but Rocket ignored them. He just wanted to eat his food in peace and then do something mind-numbing—preferably something with explosions.

An annoying noise made his ears fold back.

Maybe terrans being loud wasn’t just a Quill thing.

Uniformed terrans surrounded him. Rocket knew a gun when one was pointed at him and those were definitely guns. He freed up a hand in case he needed to draw his own blaster.

“What do you want?” Rocket asked while throwing cut up onions away from him. Even Terra had that shitty stuff.

The terrans blanched.

“The name’s Rocket. I offered that mook credits and he ran away.”

“Call in animal control,” a terran shouted.

Rocket threw a meat stick down.

“I ain’t no animal!” He was sick of people thinking he was less than what he was.

These terrans were just as dumb as those assholes on the Milano.

He jetted upwards while pulling out his blaster.

They shot at him, but he was too fast.

Rocket blasted one of their ugly wheeled ships.

“Yeah! How’s that for an animal?!” Another of the ships went up in smoke and the uniformed terrans started scattering. “That’s right!”

Rocket landed on the metal cart and pulled out another meat stick. He kept his blaster trained on any terran that got close.

He continued to gorge himself out of spite. Rocket especially liked the drink called mustard.

A flash of red caught his eye and he tracked it with his blaster.

“Well this is new,” a metal armor said, hovering at a distant. “Woah! What does that gun run on? My suit is picking up all sorts of readings!” The armor set down and the top slid back, revealing the face of a terran. “Is that running on pannium? Why isn’t it venting?” The terran moved closer.

Rocket didn’t know what to say. The terran was speaking his language.

“What does that starter cord do? What is causing that endothermic reaction?” The terran reached out his grubby, armored hand as he moved closer.

“Watch yourself, terran.” At least this one wasn’t as annoying as the other terrans.

“My bad, Meeko.” Who the hell was Meeko? The terran was smiling. Rocket eyed him. “You’re kind of causing a scene. How about I pay for your food and then we talk tech.”

“What’s in it for me?” He spit out a bit of relish.

“Well, first off, you won’t have people pointing guns at you.”

“I’m used to that.”

The terran held up a single finger.

“I wasn’t finished.” He was grinning. “I’m guessing you aren’t from around here.” Rocket hesitated, but nodded. “If you think this street food is good you haven’t seen anything yet. In case you haven’t heard, I’m Tony Stark. This is my city. You play nice and we can see the city on my dime.”

Rocket considered his offer for a moment.

“What’s a dime?”

*

Rocket was always happy to spend someone else’s credits.

His stomach was pooched out as he as Tony refilled their drinks.

“You sound like a pissbaby.” Rocket started mocking Tony’s voice. “Boo-hoo, my teammates lied to me. Boo-hoo they left me to die.” Rocket showed his teeth. “Get over it!”

Tony handed him a tissue.

Rocket swiped it up and blew his nose.

“Fuck you,” Rocket grumbled from behind his tissue.

“You got burned. It’s alright to be sad,” Tony said and his words were accompanied by a fresh glass of scotch.

“I ain’t sad! I’m angry!” He downed the drink then threw it at the wall. It shattered, doing nothing to alleviate what he was feeling. “Stupid emotions. I should dig them out of my gut and blast them.”

“That’s why we have alcohol.” Tony grabbed another bottle and glass. “And I just happen to have the best alcohol around.

*

Rocket woke up to warm breath on his stomach.

He tried to move, but a heavy hand stopped him. He was draped over the top half of Tony’s face.

“Don’t move.” Tony’s voice was hoarse and his warm breath tickled Rocket. He twitched. “It’s too bright.”

“Weak terrans.” Rocket spit on his hand then slapped it against Tony’s ear.

Tony grabbed him by the back of his shirt and tossed Rocket across the room.

Rocket cackled and his jet boots stabilized him and brought him to a stop in the air.

“What are you, five?” Tony asked while rubbing his spit covered ear. He pulled his hand away and scowled.

“Five what? Five times smarter than you? Yeah. I’m that.” 

Tony threw a pillow and Rocket easily avoided it.

“Alright, Ranger Rick. It’s time for the one meal I know how to make: Rhodey’s Hangover Mash.” Tony started heading to the kitchen. Rocket jetted past him, slapping the back of Tony’s head. “I should drown you in a bathtub,” Tony mumbled.

Rocket eyed the blond terran that was standing in the kitchen as he landed on the counter. She crossed her arms and stared right back at him.

“You got a problem?” Rocket asked.

“You going to create a problem?”

“Gasoline, meet fire. Fire, meet gasoline,” Tony said while joining them.

“I’m Carol Danvers. You smell of space.” Captain Marvel’s hand glowed with energy. She was smirking.

“You too.” Rocket’s nose twitched. “You know a terran named Peter Quill? The idiot also goes by the name Star Lord.”

“Never heard of him.”

Rocket smiled, showing off his sharp teeth.

“I think we can be friends then.”

*

“You don’t want to watch this,” Tony said, his poorly hidden smile doing nothing to deter Rocket.

“Shut up, terran, or I’ll tear apart that scrap heap you call a suit of armor and make it into something useful.”

“You wound me, furball.” Tony rubbed the top of Rocket’s head. Rocket batted aside his hand, despite finding the gesture endearing.

He grumbled about clawing Tony’s eyes out while grabbing the remote.

A documentary called  _[Raccoons: Backstreet Bandits](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J96eBCMW4bs)_ began playing.

“Backstreet’s back, alright~” Tony sang under his breath.

Rocket ignored him.

*

“What a shithole,” Rocket said obnoxiously the second they entered Tony’s workshop.

“Do I detect jealousy?” Tony said while wiggling his eyebrows.

He snarled and spit on the ground.

Before Tony could call him an animal and shove him with his foot, Dum-E wheeled forward.

The ‘bot beeped and wheeled loudly, its claw going back and forth.

“Tell that to this lug.” Rocket pointed his thumb at Tony.

Dum-E whirred in irritation.

“Not my problem.” Rocket crossed his arms in front of himself.

Dum-E’s claw raised up.

“Fine!” Rocket pulled out a rag from his pocket and wiped his spit off the ground.

*

“I ain’t no freeloader,” Rocket growled out.

Tony shoved him and Rocket nearly fell off the couch.

Rocket jumped on top of him and began messing up Tony’s hair, knowing how vain he was.

“You little bastard!” Tony shouted while trying to get him off.

“That’s what you get!” Rocket spit in Tony’s hair, mussing it up even more. He ended it with a lick that left a lock of Tony’s hair sticking straight up.

Rocket hopped off him and Tony immediately started fixing his hair.

Rocket snorted in victory.

“You vermin,” Tony said while pouting, giving up on his hair. His expression became serious as he turned towards Rocket. “You’re not a freeloader. You’ve been here three months and you’ve helped saved New York six times already.” Tony went over to him and scratched the back of Rocket’s head. “You’re part of the team now and our little family.”

Rocket shoved his hand away, his eyes tearing up.

“Yeah sure whatever.” Rocket sniffled. “You idiot.”


End file.
